Relationships…the day after tomorrow

I don’t drink green beer on St. Patrick’s Day. Why?

1. It’s stupid. Beer is not supposed to be green.
2. It’s the wrong color, anyway. Green traditionally is associated with Irish nationalism, blue with St. Patrick.
3. Real Irish beer is dark enough you wouldn’t be able to see any green dye in it. Think Guiness Stout, then go darker.
4. Thanks to my Celtic ancestry, I have celiac disease; I can’t drink beer at all. Just whiskey. You put green food coloring in an Irishman’s (or Irishwoman’s) whiskey and I won’t be responsible for the consequences. You have been warned.

However, we adopted a dog today. We’ve been looking for a companion for Hank for several weeks, for a couple of reasons. He’s going to be eleven this summer, and for a dog his size that’s getting old. A younger companion will help him get enough exercise and feel younger longer.

Plus, Spooky Man is going to be a total mess when Hank eventually dies, and he knows it (he noticed he was a mess when Syrina died last fall, and she was twenty which is very old for a housecat). He thinks another dog will help him get through the hardest part. I think it beats a stint in a psych hospital for severe depression.

So. Gypsy is two, a terrier mix, and she was homeless due to the death of her owner (the paperwork said). So far we’ve discovered she likes bones, likes to bark at everything, and really wants to chase cats even when she gets in trouble for it. These kids today. I’ll post a photo when I can get her to sit still long enough to take a non-blurry one.

Other than that, I made it through Hell Week at work (it felt like SEAL training, anyway) and the cold. Did I mention I came down with a cold the day after I got home from California? Okay, thanks, I forgot I’d mentioned it. That week was kind of a fog. If I didn’t still have the Carina e-mail, I might not believe that happened, either.

Last weekend I worked on the plot for The Nobinata Gambit, the follow-on to The Valmont Contingency. And I started the opening scene with the perfect first line: At least I’m not dead. I think this book might actually be fun to write. Fingers crossed.